of course, i had swooned, and equally, of course, not on the bank of a rivulet and under the cool shade of palm trees, but in the full blaze of the mid-day sun and on the smooth, unprotected burning surface of the desert. it was the accursed sarcophagus perfume that had worked the mischief. fortunately miss ottley saw me fall; otherwise i might have had a sunstroke. belleville and the captain carried me between them to the shade of one of the pylons, and belleville opened a vein in my left arm—a proceeding i am prevented from commenting on by considerations of professional etiquette. happily, i recovered consciousness in time to save a little of my precious blood. i told belleville my opinion of him in one comprehensive scowl, which he interpreted correctly, i am glad to say, and then got up. i bandaged my arm myself and made off for the captain's tent. that gentleman followed me. there arrived, i cast myself upon the cot and swore at ease. weldon listened in spellbound admiration. he afterwards assured me that he had never before encountered such proficient fluency in objurgation[pg 91] and invective. i was madder than a hatter, and the more because i was as weak as a cat, and i wanted to be strong, with all my soul. yet, five days passed before i felt well enough to be able to attack the task in front of me. meanwhile, i told the captain very little and miss ottley nothing. how could i let her know i knew her father to be a confounded old rascal? she was very good. she visited me every day and spent hours reading aloud by my bedside, while the captain and i watched her face and thought much the same thoughts; though i took care, for my own part, not to let my features reflect the fatuous devotion of the captain's. on the sixth morning i found i could lift that young man shoulder-high with one hand without wanting to sit down and pant afterwards, so i got up. it was just after daylight. the captain wanted to accompany me, but i thought differently. he was annoyed, but i let him watch me from the tent flap. i found sir robert talking to dr. belleville at the door of the cave temple. his greeting was quite affectionate. "so glad you are better again, my dear young friend," he said, and he warmly invited me into the chamber. it was almost empty. the jar of perfume had gone; the sarcophagus had disappeared. it contained only a table and a cot. "sit down," said sir robert.

"where is the sarcophagus?" i demanded.

the old rascal grinned. "i had it quietly transferred last night on a truck to a punt," he replied,[pg 92] "while you were enjoying your beauty sleep. dr. belleville and i have not been to bed at all. it is now on the road to cairo—and england."

i sat down on the cot. "and the dead arab?" i questioned.

dr. belleville choked back a laugh. sir robert smiled.

"the dead arab you saw was the mortal casket of ptahmes," said he. "i am not surprised at your mistake. the body is in a perfect state of preservation. it is not a mummy in any sense of the expression. i regret very much that your sudden indisposition prevented you from examining it closely and me from explaining the circumstances of its preservation and discovery on the spot. however, i can tell you this much now. we found it steeped in an essential oil which an hermetic process had defended from evaporation. the oil began to evaporate immediately it was exposed to the air: but i contrived to save a certain quantity with which, later, i purpose to experiment in london. the egyptian authorities have been very good to me. they have given me all necessary powers to deal with my discovery as i please. i tell you this lest professional jealousy should lead you to attempt any interference with my actions."

"in plain words, sir robert, you wish me to understand that your discovery is for you and not for the world."

"hardly that, my dear pinsent. merely that i[pg 93] propose to choose my own time for taking the world into my confidence—and that of dr. belleville," he added, bowing to his friend.

"an unusual course for a professed scientist to adopt."

"i have very little sympathy with conventionality," cooed sir robert.

"and i," said belleville.

"the point of view of two burglars," i observed. i scowled at belleville.

"you shall be as rude as you please. you saved my life," said sir robert.

dr. belleville cleared his throat. "ahem—ahem," said he, "the discourtesy of the disappointed is—ahem—is a tribute to the merits of the more successful."

in my rage i descended to abuse. "you are a nasty old swindler," i said to sir robert, "but your grey hair protects you for the present. but, as for you, sir," i turned to belleville, "you black bull-dog—if you dare so much as to open your lips to me again, i'll wring your flabby nose off."

the baronet turned scarlet; the doctor went livid; but neither of them said a word.

i strode to the door intending to quit, but there rage mastered me again. i swung on heel and once more faced them. "one word more," i grated out; "you're not done with me yet, either of you. i'm a peaceful man by nature, but no man treads on my toes with impunity. spiritualists or [pg 94]spirit-summoners you are, i hear. weldon calls you spook-hunters—a very proper term. you'll need all the money you possess between you and all the spirits' help you'll buy from your rascal spirit-rappers to keep me from your trail. looking for the elixir of life, i'm told. it will go hard if i don't help you find it. the elixir of public ridicule, that i'll turn upon you, will hand your names down to posterity. i'll help you to that much immortality, at least, and gratis, too. good-day to you!"

"dr. pinsent!" shouted ottley.

i paused and glanced at him across my shoulder. he gazed at me with eyes that simply blazed.

"be warned," he hissed, "if you value your life, let me and mine alone. i'll send a cheque to your tent to-day; keep it, call quits, and i'm done with you. i owe you that consideration, but no more."

"and suppose, on the other hand——"

"cross me and you shall see. you sleep sometimes, i suppose. my emissary will not always find you wakeful. he never sleeps."

"your rascal arab!" i shouted.

"pah!" he cried.

"murderer, it was to you i owe that rough and tumble a week ago at my own camp in the desert."

"to me," he mumbled. "to me. whom else? my agents are spirits and invisible. they do not love you for despising them. they have tortures in reserve for you when you are dead and you, too, are a spirit. but i would be merciful—i shall send[pg 95] you a cheque. return it at your peril. now go, go, go."

on a sudden i was cold as ice. the man was evidently insane. he seemed on the brink of a fit. he was frothing at the mouth.

"softly, softly, sir robert," i said soothingly. "no need for excitement. calm yourself; after all this is a business transaction."

"oh!" he gasped, then broke into a wild laugh. "a mere matter of price. i should have known it; a scotchman!"

"exactly," said i. "and my price is a million. good-morning."

the whole camp was astir. the negroes' tents were all down and rolled. the mules and asses were being loaded heavily. evidently sir robert was about to flit after the corpse of ptahmes. i found miss ottley and the captain talking over the apparent move. the girl was agitated. she had not been consulted. it was not a time to mince matters. i told her frankly everything that had passed between her father and myself, and hardly had i finished, when she rushed off hot foot to visit him. the captain went with her. i made a passably good breakfast.